Questions without Answers
by CryptJo
Summary: Spurred on by a childhood memory, Sephiroth enters the ShinRa mansion, looking for answers.


There were few memories from his childhood that Sephiroth could call pleasant. Most of them were unremarkable, some he would like to forget and others, he recalled with a nostalgia which might be termed as fond. One memory though, came to mind when Sephiroth first stepped into the quiet and uninspiring town of Nibelheim. A memory, deeply buried or long forgotten, flashed in his mind, conjuring images of pale skin, dark hair and red eyes peering at him curiously. He brushed it off, concentrating instead on doling out orders and instructing his inferiors. Only when they were settled into their respective rooms in Nibelheim's only hotel did Sephiroth allow his mind to wander.

_He was young, perhaps only six or seven, but already his body and mind were developed beyond his years. Having intimidated one of Hojo's assistants into letting him explore the mansion, Sephiroth crept along one of the long and winding corridors of the mansion's cavernous basement. The professor had left to return to Midgar a week previously and, without his usual rounds of poking and prodding, Sephiroth grew bored. Filled with usual childish curiosity, Sephiroth elected to explore his immediate surroundings._

_After room upon room of nothing more than coffins and skeletal remains, Sephiroth finally happened upon something worthy of attention. Although he was young, Sephiroth was already highly enhanced. His hearing, beyond that which was natural, picked up a slow, steady beat. Far slower than normal, it was unmistakably a heartbeat nevertheless, coming from one of the coffins in front of him. Coffins held no fear for Sephiroth, nor did skeletons and so Sephiroth bent over the correct Coffin and pushed off the lid._

_The face looking up at him was beautiful. Pale skin framed by dark hair and surrounded by the lush crimson silk that lined the casket. Used only to the faces of Professor Hojo and his scientific staff, never before had Sephiroth seen such an exotic figure. Who was this man, Sephiroth wondered, and why was he hidden away in a coffin when he was obviously still alive? As if to prove that very point, the mysterious man's eyes fluttered open. At Sephiroth's surprised gasp, blood red eyes fell upon him, widening as they took in the sight of the young man._

_"Who are you?" He asked, awed and slightly intimidated._

_"Vincent Valentine," the man said with a voice that was clearly unused to speaking. _

"General, Sir!"

Sephiroth was pulled from his memories by the voice of his second, calling to him as the young man bounded up the stairs.

"What is it, Fair?

"Everything is set up for tomorrow, Sir. I've found us a guide - a local girl - who will take us into the mountains." Zack paused, looking like he had something else to say. He waited for Sephiroth's nod, an indication that he could continue. "Was there anything else, Sir? Only Cloud - I mean Private Strife - has invited me to his mum's for dinner."

"That's everything, Fair," Sephiroth said, returning his attention to the window overlooking the mansion. "Enjoy yourselves," he added as an afterthought.

_"My name?" People rarely referred to Sephiroth by name. To Hojo and his staff, he was usually known as the experiment or occasionally 'boy'. Only a few people, a doctor he remembered seeing when he was very young and maybe the occasional kindly nurse, ever called him by his given name. Still, he was reluctant to give it up so easily to this stranger, so with a petulant shrug, he said, "I don't want to tell you."_

_Vincent looked amused, apparently unfazed by the child's tone._

_"That is your choice. You shouldn't be here, should you?"_

_"Neither should you," Sephiroth retorted, his tone accusatory and challenging._

_"Perhaps that's true," Vincent said, finally sitting up and leaning an arm on the side of the coffin. He leaned forward and covered his lips with a finger. "I won't tell if you don't."_

_Sephiroth broke into a very shy, very unfamiliar smile. He liked this strange and exotic man, he decided. Vincent didn't appear intimidated by Sephiroth or scared of him like so many of the scientists were. If anything, Vincent exuded warmth towards Sephiroth, something the boy had rarely experienced. For the first time in his life, Sephiroth found himself craving something he had never known; friendship._

Sephiroth ate dinner alone, in his room. Zack Fair and his trooper friend were occupied together and the other trooper had retired to bed. In truth, Sephiroth didn't mind the solitude. Often, it was preferable. That night, however, haunted by ghosts of the past, Sephiroth would have welcomed the distraction of company. He poured a glass of wine and the liquid transfixed him. The colour was almost identical to the eyes which flitted in and out of his mind.

Sighing while he wiped his lips with a napkin, Sephiroth found his gaze drifting to the window. Although night had fallen and the world beyond the window was shrouded in darkness, he could still just make out the silhouette of the mansion. How long, he wondered, since he had last been there? How long since he had met that man? It felt like an eternity had passed between then and now, yet one his mind was jogged, images and memories returned to him with surprising clarity.

_"They don't like me," Sephiroth said suddenly, casting his gaze over his shoulder as if he might be overheard. Vincent didn't ask who; instead he smiled softly and asked, "And why might you think that?"_

_"They fear me. He made them fear me." Sephiroth licked his lip and looked at Vincent. "Is it better to be feared or forgotten?"_

"_Which would you rather?"_

_Not expecting the answer to be fired back at him, or rather, not wishing the question to be fired back at him, Sephiroth hesitated. _

"_I think," he said, looking at the floor, then the ceiling and then finally back to Vincent. "I think I would rather be forgotten."_

_Silence settled between the two males and Sephiroth took the opportunity to drop to the floor beside Vincent's coffin. He sat with his back resting against the wood and absently scratched at the floor with his fingernails. Despite the rather grim surroundings, Sephiroth felt at peace for once. _

"_Are you dead, Vincent?"_

"_No, I'm not dead."_

"_But you're not really alive, are you?"_

"_No, I'm not alive either."_

"_What are you then?"_

_When no answer came, Sephiroth turned his head to look at Vincent. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed. Wondering if the man had fallen asleep, Sephiroth lifted his hand to gently touch his fingers against the smooth skin of Vincent's cheek. It was far colder than it should have been and Sephiroth had to suppress a shudder. His fingers continued their journey, trailing down Vincent's cheek, across his lips and up the other side to where his hairline disappeared between red fabric. The furrow between Vincent's eyebrows faded and a faint smile took its place._

Cursing his own curiosity, Sephiroth pulled on his coat and grabbed his sword. Thoughts of the enigmatic man from his past had plagued him as he tried to sleep. In the dead of night, fuelled by thoughts of unanswered questions and half-remembered touches, Sephiroth stole out of the hotel and made his way through the slumbering town. There was something about that building that drew him in. His rational side argued that it was just because of the memories, stirred up within his mind but the more emotional part of him, the facet of his character he had repressed – willingly and unwillingly – throughout his life told him there was something far more magical and wondrous at play.

Pushing against the wrought iron gate, Sephiroth easily broke the chain which held it closed and entered the grounds. The years of neglect were obvious in the state of the overgrown garden. What might have once been beautiful roses were now just a tangled mess of thorns. He listened carefully, wondering if he might hear that heartbeat, even from this distance. The only sound he could hear was of the wind, whistling through the leafless trees and dried up grasses. Not yet, he told himself. Soon.

"_Can I kiss you?"_

_At Sephiroth's question, Vincent's eyes flew open. There was no sign of alarm in his expression, but Sephiroth knew he had asked the wrong question. Or perhaps it was the right question at the wrong time. He gave a hollow chuckle, trying to cover up his embarrassment._

"_Won't they be missing you?"_

"_He's not here. They like it when he's not here because it means they can shirk their responsibilities. Sometimes, they lock me away and leave me there for days because they can." Sephiroth's voice was cold and dispassionate, like he was talking about someone other than himself. He tilted his head and asked, "Is that what happened to you?"_

"_I locked myself away."_

"_Why?"_

"_Do you hate them. Child?" _

_Carefully considering the question, Sephiroth turned away from Vincent to stare at the floor once more. He wasn't sure if he hated them. He didn't think he loved them but then again, he wasn't really sure which was which. _

"_They hate me so I should hate them back. Right?"_

"_It's harder to love than to hate."_

_Vincent sounded melancholy. He had a story to tell, of that Sephiroth was certain, but was it Sephiroth's story to hear? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask but then he heard the voices. Not close by; he wouldn't be discovered any time soon, but he could hear them asking each other if they knew where Hojo's experiment had gone. He stifled an uncharacteristic giggle._

"_You should go. If they found you here…"_

"_You can hear them?" It was a shock to Sephiroth that Vincent could hear them and, forgetting his imminent discovery, he asked eagerly, "Are you enhanced too?"_

"_Enhanced?" Vincent snorted. "Is that what he calls it now? No," Vincent said, shaking his head sadly and starting to retreat into his coffin once more. "I wouldn't say I'm enhanced."_

_The conversation was over, that much was clear, and although Sephiroth had many more questions for this mysterious figure, it wasn't the time to ask them._

"_Vincent?" He asked, watching the lid slide onto the coffin, replacing itself. "Can I come back and see you sometime?"_

_As the lid slipped shut, Sephiroth heard Vincent's voice one last time._

"_I believe I would like that."_

With an apprehension he hadn't felt in years, Sephiroth opened the massive door to the mansion and crossed the threshold. The odour of rotting wood pervaded his senses, causing his nose to wrinkle in involuntary disgust. He was surprised to find that the route to the stairs leading to the basement was firmly etched in his mind, although he couldn't remember ever having been in this part of the mansion. As he walked up the stairs, a voice that wasn't his own enticed and encouraged him to hurry; to find out the secrets of the mansion. _Vincent_, he told himself. Vincent really was there and not just a figment of his imagination. He had heard that lonely children often invented imaginary playmates for themselves. A surge of fear gripped him, causing his steps to falter on the rickety steps. What if that was the source of Vincent's mystery? What if Sephiroth's mind, pumped full of drugs and deprived of affection had created Vincent? The doubt that suddenly seized his mind almost made him turn back. Only the faint _thump-thump_ of a heartbeat stopped him, even as he turned to retreat.

"Vincent."

He spoke the name reverentially, as if saying out loud would cause the man to pop out of existence. Bolstered now by the heartbeat growing louder with every advancing step, Sephiroth hurried to the secret entrance to the basement. The wall parted with surprising ease, sliding into itself to reveal the winding staircase that led down to the answer to a million questions Sephiroth didn't even know he had until that moment.

_Vincent Vincent Vincent_. The name repeated in Sephiroth's head like a litany; a prayer to an unseen being who had held a portion – the only portion – of Sephiroth's heart that felt truly human. The breath stuck in his throat as he approached the door behind which was a room that held only coffins, skeletal remains and Vincent Valentine.

The room looked exactly like it had all those years previously. He wondered if Vincent had ever awoken from his slumbers and gone looking for the child he met that night. Did Vincent dream about him? Did he, like Sephiroth, ask himself if the child was real or just a figment of his imagination? Advancing towards the coffin he knew should be occupied by Vincent, Sephiroth allowed himself the luxury of a moment of uncertainty. The moment of truth was at hand; he placed his palms against the edge of the lid and pushed.

Nearly-white skin, midnight-black hair and crimson silk; it was all as Sephiroth remembered it. He exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him. Vincent was real. The painfully slow heartbeat thumped on and Sephiroth looked down at the face which hadn't aged a day since the first time Sephiroth set eyes upon it. Dark lashes rested against high cheekbones and Sephiroth found himself wishing those eyes would open to reveal the blood-red eyes which had inhabited his thoughts since first arriving in town, but they remained firmly shut.

A stray thought entered Sephiroth's mind. _"Can I kiss you?" _ At the time, his child-self hadn't understood what he was asking. Years later, the adult didn't know either, but the impetus was still there. He still didn't know what it was to hate and he still didn't know what it was to love. Sephiroth knew what he felt towards the inert figure in the casket wasn't either; there was a connection between them nevertheless. Without stopping to think about what he was doing, Sephiroth bent forward at the waist, tipping forward until his mouth hovered above the other man's. Taking a calming breath, he closed the gap and lightly brushed their lips together.

When Sephiroth drew back, he saw Vincent's eyes were open.

"You came back," the man said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"You remember me?"

"Of course."

Vincent's hand, the one furthest from Sephiroth, reached up to cup the back of Sephiroth's head and pulled him back down. This time, the kiss was reciprocated. Lips parted and tongues intertwining, the two men greeted each other like old lovers who had been separated for far too long. For every inquisitive dip Sephiroth's tongue made into Vincent's mouth, the other responded in kind. Without breaking away, Sephiroth unbuckled his scabbard and let his sword clatter to the floor of the crypt. The sound was sharp, echoing around the room, but quickly lost in amongst the sighs and gasps of the two men as they kissed. Years of pent-up frustration at the lack of any affection, passion, _tenderness_ in Sephiroth's life were washed away under the tidal wave that was Vincent. He had entered the mansion with a myriad of thoughts on his mind, but now, there was only one; more.

It seemed that Vincent, too, wanted more. He pulled Sephiroth's arms, tugging at him until the man took the hint and heaved his body over the side of the coffin and crushed himself against Vincent. Hot and heavy and hungry, their breaths intermingled as hands struggled and fought against clothing. There was hardly room to breath in the casket, never mind move, and so a compromise had to be reached. Baring enough of their flesh to bring pleasure to the other, hands wrapped around their opposite's erections and stroked roughly. For Sephiroth, a general experienced in the ways of death, destruction, and ruin and Vincent, a mysterious figure who – for reasons beyond Sephiroth's comprehension – slept in a coffin it was a culmination of an attraction which had begun when a child who was not a child, met a man who was not a man.

His orgasm choked him, and as Sephiroth struggled for breath he could have sworn he saw Vincent's body change form for a second. A vision of hatred and malevolence danced across his mind, promising him madness and death. In the next moment, Vincent arched up against him, spilling his own seed between them and crying out a curse.

It felt wrong to stay there after they were both spent, so Sephiroth climbed out of the coffin and instead, took up the position he had a lifetime previously, sitting on the floor, resting against the casket.

"I have so many questions," he said after a few minutes of silence.

"I cannot give you the answers."

"Can anyone?"

"The answers are around you," Vincent said, sitting up and leaning over the side of the coffin. "Whether you seek them out or not is up to you. Be sure though, that it is what you really want."

"How will I know?"

"I think you already do." Vincent patted Sephiroth's head in an almost fatherly gesture. "You should go. Your comrades will be looking for you soon."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sephiroth stood, dusted himself off and without looking back, exited the crypt. Vincent was right; the sun would be already climbing in the sky. Regardless of whatever questions Sephiroth had, he was there to do a job. Everything else could wait until after his party investigated the mako reactor. He took a deep breath and walked towards the stairs.

"See you again, Vincent, he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing off the walls.

"I know you will, Sephiroth." Came the muffled reply.

The end.


End file.
